Atlas Hands
by wouldtheywriteasongforyou
Summary: She stared at the reflection of herself. She supposed she was the same girl who once believed in fairytales but she couldn't find a single trace of that girl in the reflection of the stranger in front of her. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall," she began but couldn't remember how the rest of the phrase went. — 25 drabbles, global destinations, and pairings.
1. Atlas Hands

**Author's Note:  
Disclaimer: JKR is my queen.  
**

June - December 2014. A 25 drabble collection for the HPFC Globetrotter II Competition. Each drabble corresponds to a location-based prompt.

**Em-Dawg (percychased) inspired all of this.  
**

* * *

**Atlas Hands  
**

[-]

1\. _Heartstrings_ : Rome, Italy – Used to be the biggest empire in the world, the Holy Roman Empire. Write about the Ministry of Magic, or, alternatively, someone in power. Divergent Competition Dauntless quote 4. "This is someone whose eyes claim mine and don't release me." Wand Wood Competition Dragon: Silver Lime - write about Fleur Delacour. 11 June 2014. Word Count: 596.

2\. _Sort Of Calm_ : New York City, New York, United States – Also known as the city that never sleeps, New York has five different boroughs; the Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, and Staten Island. Write about being Sorted into a house at Hogwarts. Divergent Competition Abnegation quote 4. "A calm mind is a clear mind." Wand Wood Competition Dragon: Fir - write about a strong character or write a post-War or Next-Generation story. 12 June 2014. Word Count: 548.

3\. _Greenhouse Three_ : St. Johns, Newfoundland, Canada – St. Johns has the first sunrise in North America. Write about something that takes place in the nighttime. 11 June 2014. Word Count: 165.

4\. _Sketchy_ : Amsterdam, Netherlands – Probably most famous for its red-light district and cannibis coffee shops, Amsterdam is also home to the Van Gogh Museum. Write about someone doing something they shouldn't, or, alternatively, artistic inspiration. 12 June 2014. Word Count: 376.

5\. _Platforms _: London, England – The home of King's Cross Station and Diagon Alley. Your task is simple – write about either of these places. 29 July 2014. Word Count: 373.

6\. _Happily Ever After _: Neuschwanstein Castle, Germany – A ninteenth-century Romanesque Revival palace, used as an inspiration for sleeping beauty. Write about a happily ever after. 29 July 2014. Word Count: 329.

7\. _Veiled Truths _: Ponte Rialto bridge, Venice, Italy – The Ponte Rialto bridge is the oldest bridge across the Grand Canal of Venice. Originially built in the 12th century out of wood, it was rebuilt in the 16th century and still stands today. Write about someone replacing someone/something, or a mother/daughter relationship. 10 August 2014. Word Count: 440.

8\. _Let It Snow _: Argentina – Argentina is the largest Spanish-speaking country in the world, and also claims sovereignty over part of Antarctica. Write about someone/something foreign, in any sense, or the winter. Wand Wood Competition Dragon: Black Walnut - write about an unconfident or self-doubting character. Star Challenge Castor and Pollux: write about the Weasley twins. 10 August 2014. Word Count: 527.

9\. _Matchmaker_ : Sydney, Australia – While it's the most well-known (and largest) Australian city, it isn't the capital. Sydney has also hosted several large sporting events, including the 2000 Summer Olympics. Write about Quidditch. Battleship Challenge C6: "It's not my fault being the biggest and the strongest. I don't even exercise!" - Fezzik, The Princess Bride by William Goldman. Wand Wood Competition Dragon: Red Oak - write about a Seeker. Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 1. Cho&amp;Cedric ; "silence". 24 August 2014. Word Count: 520.

10\. _Just Listen _: Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea – Out of 140 cities, Port Moresby was rated #139 for ease of living. Write about a struggle, metaphorical or literal. Wand Wood Competition Dragon: Cedar - write about a strong friendship or write about an instance where a character is underestimated or overlooked. Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 2. Teddy&amp;JamesSirius ; "learning". Create-A-Potion Challenge polyjuice potion, ingredient #3: powdered bicorn horn - 2 different points-of-view. 24 August 2014. Word Count: 586.

11\. _Counting Stars_ : Inverness, Scotland – The city of Inverness lies close to two important battle sites. Write about war, Magical or Muggle. The Radio Playlist Challenge "18. Counting Stars - One Republic". Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 3. Hannah&amp;Luna ; "illegal". 7 September 2014. Word Count: 650.

12\. _Tomatillos _: Mexico City, Mexico – The third biggest city in the world. Write about a crowded place, or, alternatively, Diagon Alley. Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 4. Roxanne&amp;LilyLuna ; "holiday". 25 August 2014. Word Count: 552.

13\. _Food for Thought_ : Osaka City, Japan – Home to some of the biggest electronic companies in the world. Write about a Muggleborn. The First Sentence Challenge "Maybe this is better." Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 5. Fred&amp;Hermione ; "bakery". 18 October 2014. Word Count: 550.

14\. _This Old House _: Auckland, New Zealand – Auckland has one of the highest qualities of living in the world. Write about wealth. Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 6. Sirius&amp;Remus ; "lamp". 14 December 2014. Word Count: 584.

15\. _Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy _: Vilnius, Lithuania – Vilnius is often spelled different in other languages, such as Polish, where it is Wilno. Write about someone who is two-faced, or write about a betrayal. Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 7. Marietta&amp;Harry ; "secret". 14 December 2014. Word Count: 542.

16\. _Grave _: Stavenger, Norway – On the coast of Norway, this is the leading city in the country for oil production. Write about being the best at something. Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 8. Lily&amp;Marlene ; "midnight". 18 December 2014. Word Count: 583.

17\. _The Dance Class _: Riga, Latvia – The largest Baltic city, Riga is known for its 19th century wooden architecture, and lies on very flat land. Write about something that happened in the recent past (19th century onward) or write about either of the Wizarding Wars. Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 9. Padma&amp;Parvati ; "wand". 23 December 2014. Word Count: 407.

18\. _Cat and Mouse _: Saint Petersburg, Russia – St. Petersburg has been through three name changes – first, in 1914, to Petrograd, in 1924 to Leningrad, and finally, in 1991, back to Saint Petersburg. Use the phrase "three time's the charm" as inspirtation. Ultimate Pairing Drabble Competition Hard: 10. Bill&amp;Fleur ; "together". 22 December 2014. Word Count: 181.

19\. _Summertime Sadness_ : Alert, Nunavut, Canada – The northermost permanently inhabited place in the world, along with science research stations and various studies conducted there. The only months that average above 0C is July and August. Write about someone distant and cold, or, alternatively, write about the summer months. 24 December. Word Count: 238.

20\. _Déjà vu_ : Lisbon, Portugal – In 1357, two years after his lover Ines de Castro had died, King Peter of Portugal dug her body up from the grave and declared her the rightful Queen, commanding his subjects to kiss her hand. Write about someone who is completely devoted to another person. 24 December. Word Count: 316.

21\. _Summit _: Banff, Alberta, Canada – One of the most popular tourist towns in Canada, it has wonderful skiing and has a picturesque backdrop of mountains. Write about the winter, or alternatively, something beautiful. 25 December. Word Count: 190.

22\. _Rinse and Repeat _: Paris, France – The city of love. This one is pretty simple; write a romance, of any kind. 25 December. Word Count: 609.

23\. _Nightmare _: Cape Town, South Africa – A city of natural beauty, creative freedom, and incredible spirit. Write about being who you are. 25 December. Word Count: 174.

24\. _The Looking Glass _: Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, United States – Known for long stretches of warm beaches. While the city itself is small, the beach attracts millions of visitors from all over each year. Write about someone small but tough. 25 December. Word Count: 278.

25\. _Fox Hunt_ : The Magna Carta – (translates to the Great Charter) is not an album by Jay-Z, but in fact an Angevin charter issued in 1215 as the first document imposed on the King of England by feudal barons, to attempt to limit his powers. Write about the Founders Era, or, alternatively, someone in power. 25 December. Word Count: 209.

[-]


	2. Rome

**Author's Note:**

Dauntless quote 4. "This is someone whose eyes claim mine and don't release me."

11 June 2014. Word Count: 596

**There is a symphony plucking at each of his heartstrings.**

* * *

**Heartstrings**

[-]

When he sees her raise her flute of champagne to her lips, he swears he can feel each bubble starburst in the spaces between his ribs. There is a symphony plucking at each of his heartstrings, and although he cannot hear the music, the vibrations echo deep in the marrow tucked away within his bones.

She smiles a dainty and coy smile, the one all young girls are taught in cotillion before learning which piece of cutlery to use first during dinner, and a burgundy Cupid's bow imprints itself on the rim of her glass. She swirls the liquid starlight for a moment and pretends to inspect the corked heaven. All the while, she knows that the heat on her back she is feeling is, in fact, William Weasley's gaze tracing the roadmap of her veins.

Her pale shoulders shiver daintily even though the weight of his gaze warms her from the inside out. Fleur knows William cannot keep his eyes off her, and she smirks at the power he has unconsciously given her. She waits patiently for him to approach her – playing hard-to-get has never been so much fun – and lingers by the black linen-clothed buffet table.

Bill tugs at the Windsor knot noosed upon his neck. He has never been fond of these Ministry of Magic charity galas – he supports the causes but the black tie events and schmoozing are not his forte. He nods absent-mindedly as a co-worker continues to spout of figures and stock trends that have been linked to their latest archaeological discovery in Cambodia, but everything his co-worker says goes in through Bill's left ear and out his right. At the moment, his mind is the farthest away from work; his attention has been captured by a blonde bombshell who looks as edible in that little black satin dress as the food she is posing nearby.

"Go for it, mate," the co-worker laughs.

"I'm sorry?" Bill asks.

"Don't pretend like you weren't just eye-fucking Fleur Delacour," the co-worker says with a knowing wink. "And don't pretend you don't know she was eye-fucking you back. Man up and go talk to her, Weasley."

"I, er, right," he stammers out. "Yeah." He rakes a hand through his shoulder-length ginger locks. Then, he snags a champagne flute off of a floating silver platter and saunters over to her despite the nervousness buzzing in an electric current beneath his skin. "Miss Delacour?"

She slowly pivots her head so that her long, arching neck is now angled towards him. A feathery eyebrow floats high on her brow bone. "Oui?"

He takes a sip of champagne – if only it were _felix felicis _or firewhiskey instead! – and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "You and I, we're going to be married someday."

"Are we?" she humours him. "And yet, you have not introduced yourself."

"Weasley," he says, with borrowed Bond suavity. "Bill Weasley. But you already knew that."

"Mm," she hums out. "So I did."

Bill gathers his Gryffindor courage. "And this isn't the first fight we've had, nor will it be the last. So, I'm going to tell you I'm sorry about the chicken coop incident and that you were right and I was wrong, and that I love you so very much, and then I'm going to kiss you senseless."

Fleur twists the diamond ring on her left hand round and round. "And if I say to hell with it and just kiss me already?"

His lips are already on hers and swallowing down her question mark before she finishes speaking.

[-]


	3. New York City

**Author's Note:**

Abnegation quote 4. "A calm mind is a clear mind."

12 June 2014. Word Count: 548

**You're almost there.  
**

* * *

**Sort Of Calm  
**

[-]

Close your eyes.

Take a deep breath. In. Out.

A calm mind is a clear mind; remember that for when you start to feel yourself panic on your way up the steps. Remember that who you are will not change after your Sorting. Remember that your House will help – not hinder – your spirit. Remember that you will be loved the same no matter where you are Sorted.

Do you recall the countless months of dreading this very day? Can you see in your mind's eye all of those calendars you marked up as they all led to the September 1st of your eleventh year?

Take another deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. You're almost there.

Soon, it will be all over. Soon, the worry and stress will peel away from you like a shedding snake skin and the proud fire in your eyes will return when you roar as loud as a lion again while you sharpen your intelligence here in this castle and learn about the bonds of trust and loyalty to friends and the authority. Soon you will be home at last.

Patience, my son. Professor – pardon me, Headmistress – McGonagall is only on the C's. We have a ways to go before P.

You have nothing to worry about. You are ambitious, brave, and full of wit and perseverance. You will be a worthy asset anywhere the Hat places you or where you may wish to be Sorted. I believe I have told you the story of my Sorting many times before and how the Hat let me have the final say. If it boils down to it, I am certain the Hat will grant you the same choice.

So what if you are placed in a different house than your brother? In the long run, it might help if you make a name for yourself rather than be delegated to live permanently in his eclipsing shadow. Be proud and show them who you are, son.

She's reading out the M's, now. Calm your breathing. It won't do you any good to pass out on your first day. You miss most of the Start-of-Term Feast if you do that.

When Headmistress McGonagall says your name and it's (finally!) your turn, walk slowly but surely to the stool. Place the patchy black hat upon your head. The Hat speaks to you within your mind; everything that occurs between the two of you is a private transgression. You may choose to answer out loud or in your mind. The Sorting Hat will yell out your House and then your Sorting is over.

That's it. All of that stressing and crying and worrying just for a magicked hat to speak a single word.

This is _your_ choice, son. Not mine, not your mum's, not Grandmum's or Granddad Weasley's, not James', not Hagrid's, not McGonagall's, not Lily's, not Rose's or Hugo's or any other of your cousin's. This is your choice, and yours alone. You do what you think is best for you.

Ah, here you go. After _Isabelle, Nott_, it should be you. Chin up; you'll do fine.

Perhaps it would be best if you open your eyes, too. I wouldn't want you to trip on the stairs during your way up on my account.

Good luck.

"_Potter, Albus!_"

[-]


	4. St John's

**Author's Note:**

11 June 2014. Word Count: 165

**We only have these two minutes.  
**

* * *

**Greenhouse Three  
**

[-]

I want to see your blue eyes. Your laugh lines when you squint.

Please . . . I want to feel you watching me.

We only have these two minutes.

Two shadowed minutes of sneaking about the mandrakes and flutterby bushes. Two magical minutes of prancing in Hagrid's pumpkin patch and letting you enjoy a midnight Cinderella moment. One hundred and twenty seconds until the guillotine of our curfew ends any semblance of freedom we may have.

The wrackspurts and gulping plimpies will still be there for us to find in the morning.

Your search for the rabbit hole leading away from reality can wait.

Kisses in the greenhouse, your breathy whispers tickling the shell of my ear with my name – _"Neville . . . "_ – even the dewy grass stains tie-dyeing our clothes are all red herrings, distractions in its loveliest form.

Three hundred and fifty-four of Professor Sprout's finest belladonna flowers cannot compete with the moonlit irises blossoming in your Bambi eyes tonight.

[-]


	5. Amsterdam

**Author's Note:**

12 June 2014. Word Count: 376

**They exchange secrets. So incredibly serious. A lifetime in a month.**

* * *

**Sketchy  
**

[-]

She knows it happened.

Somewhere between the firefly-lit autumn nights, weeping willow curtains, and rendezvousing in seas of strangers, the spark inside her heart grew into an all-consuming flame.

Hermione is fifteen years old, not yet aware of the effect she has on men.

Not entirely.

He'll come to the library and feed her bite-sized pieces of the Cyrillic alphabet and Russian history, all of which she devours hungrily. She helps smooth out the jagged edges of his broken English, but it's obvious he will never be able to speak it fluently. This prompts them to form their own language, equal parts Slavic and English, and wholly something no one else can understand.

Viktor, however, is more aware of the things she does not say. He notices, in quiet observance, the way she avoids looking into mirrors (that evening, he presses butterfly kisses on her collarbone and tells her she is beautiful), how she dims down her brilliance when she is shadowed in the light of others (he then introduces her to Mikhail, a Sixth Year who is an abstract theorist and specialises in verbal sparring rather than traditional Durmstrang sword play), and the way she spins like a music box dancer when she first puts on a dress (he invites her to the Yule Ball where she can twirl all night long).

On his single off day from Triwizard Tournament training, he sketches her as they conjure a canoe and drift lazily across the surface of the Black Lake. They exchange secrets. So incredibly serious. A lifetime in a month.

She would never be able to explain any of it – dancing the night away, being told her she was beautiful and the first time she actually believed them (because when Viktor looked at her like _that_, she felt like perhaps she might truly be beautiful in that moment), burning with a hundred emotions for one person, falling headfirst into love – to her friends back at Hogwarts. The teardrop-splattered watercolour sketch he gave her would have to do.

The sketch froze the moment and Hermione very nicely. Later, in fact, he became quite a famous painter. Of course, by then, nobody would be able to understand Viktor Krum's paintings of lakeshores at all.

But she would.

[-]


	6. London

**Author's Note:**

29 July 2014. Word Count: 373

**Merlin, she really isn't like anyone else.**

* * *

**Platforms  
**

[-]

"Who broke your heart?"

Who asks such a thing?

We've barely stepped on to the train platform.

"I'm sorry?"

She smiles, stepping closer. She is bold and beautiful, blossoming with confidence before your very eyes. "You looked like you were ready to burst with all of the things you wish to say. So - " she does some odd hand-waving - "go ahead. Confetti your thoughts into my hair. Decorate me with your words. Who knows - perhaps some of them will fall onto my lips and I could kiss them away for you."

"I don't even know you," you frown.

She arches a chestnut eyebrow. "Audrey Charlotte Pippitone. But really, I'm just like everyone else, so it's possible that you know me better than you know yourself."

You want to tell her that no, she's not like everyone else, but the words stick in your throat and you swallow them down like a bitter pill. "I have a train to catch," you say as your train steamrolls down the track and comes to a screeching halt next to the platform. "And it's a long story."

She follows you through the automatic doors and plops down next to you on the urban-weathered blue chairs. "My stop isn't for a long time."

She's annoying and a bother and you probably should tell her to sod off but you know you won't. Despite the fact that she asks too many invasive questions and talks so cryptically that she might as well be speaking in another language, you find that you have a strange liking towards her.

Merlin, she really isn't like anyone else.

"It was a summer girl," you start which elicits a dreamy, wistful sigh from your companion.

"Isn't it always?" she responds as the train hurtles away from King's Cross station and into the blinding, brilliant world.

"We interned together at the Ministry." You pause to adjust your horn-rimmed glasses; you don't really know what else there is to say about your summer fling with Penelope Clearwater.

"Go on," Audrey encourages you.

And so you do. But before you reach the happily ever after that doesn't exist in your story, she's already kissing the words away and writing a new ending for you.

[-]


	7. Neuschwanstein Castle

**Author's Note:**

29 July 2014. Word Count: 329

**It will look like a snapshot cut straight from a movie.**

* * *

**Happily Ever After  
**

[-]

There will be a sunset.

There will be a sunset painted on the sky in quixotic shades of blood orange and burgundy and eggplant that bleeds into a midnight blue. And maybe there's going to be a dribble of egg yolk yellow for the sun.

It will look messy.

It will look like someone carelessly splattered the colours over the Earth. But it will look so careless that perhaps she may start to wonder if it were intentional.

He'll be there, sitting atop a horse that just so happens to be a magnificent white steed. Every brass button on his military coat will be polished so that they outshine the stars that dare to peek out from behind the sun rays. A breeze will be blowing which will then artfully tousle his windswept hair.

He'll jump down from his white horse. She'll run to him in a flawless re-enactment of a meadow scene. It will look like a snapshot cut straight from a movie.

They'll kiss and say _I love you_ and won't it be so perfect?

.

It won't happen at midnight.

It won't happen at midnight in the chamber of secrets with her chilled bones and his icy words stabbing at the goosebumps that prickle up on her skin. She won't know if those are goosebumps because of the cold or because he's making her fear for her life.

It won't be messy.

It will not look like a fight that's gone a little too far. She is not going to be screaming until her voice is hoarse. She is not going to be staring anywhere other than his face because she is not praying for a soul to save her, is she?

He jumps out of the pages. She's bleeding scarlet ink. It looks like a snapshot cut straight from a movie.

They kiss - his fingers weave a necklace around her throat - and say _I love you_ and oh, look how perfect it is.

[-]


	8. Venice

**Author's Note:**

10 August 2014. Word Count: 440

**"It's not too late to change your mind."  
**

* * *

**Veiled Truths  
**

[-]

"Hello, darling," Mum smiles as she enters the suite. She closes the door softly behind her. "How do you feel?"

I set down my make up brush shakily. "Terrified in the best way possible," I answer as I look at her reflection through the vanity's mirror.

"Oh, Dora, my darling," she says, and I can hear over twenty years of maternal love shimmering in her voice. Mum stands behind my chair and wraps her arms around my shoulders. She looks at the two of us for a long moment before wiping away a few tears. "He is truly who you want? It's not too late to change your mind."

I nod. "I love Remus, Mum. He means everything to me."

She sweeps my hair over my right shoulder and kisses the top of my head. "All right, then." She crosses the room towards the door where my wedding dress is hanging on a hook.

Twisting, I look at my mother as I assess her reaction. "I know that the, er, the age . . . difference . . . is a bit immoral and that as a werewolf he'll - I mean, we'll - have a rough time with the Ministry and employment, but Mum, we can make it work -"

"Dora," she interrupts with a sad smile. "Your father and I gave our blessing when he asked for your hand months ago."

"Then - I don't understand. You and Dad haven't seemed like you fully wanted me and Remus to marry."

Mum pauses as she unhooks the dress and brings it to the centre of the room. "I - I'm not sure this is the best time to speak of hesitations. You need to be walking down the aisle in ten minutes."

I get up out of the chair and stand in front of her. As she helps me dress, I say against my instincts: "Now is the best time, Mum."

She is quiet as she laces and ribbons and fluffs everything to a beautiful, white perfection. "Dad and I don't want to lose you."

I want to reassure her that she won't but her sentence sounds unfinished and my curiosity gets the better of me. "And . . . ?"

Mum walks around to my front side so that we are looking in each other's eyes. She puts my headpiece in place and flips my veil so that the lace distorts my vision of the world and I can only see clearly through the tiny holes. She leaves me at the beginning of the aisle and murmurs: "We just thought the man you married would always be Charlie."

[-]


	9. Argentina

**Author's Note:**

10 August 2014. Word Count: 527

**(Mum would disown you on the spot if she knew that you'd forgotten about Christmas.)  
**

* * *

**Let It Snow  
**

[-]

It's eleven pm.

It's eleven pm on a Wednesday.

It's eleven pm on a Wednesday that just so happens to also be the twenty-fourth of December, and guess who hasn't shopped for any gifts yet?

(Mum would disown you on the spot if she knew that you'd forgotten about Christmas.)

You have some excellent reasons for not remembering it was the holiday season: see, first you had gotten the flu at the beginning of the month; all of your time off created a mound of paperwork when you got back; then you had an ear infection - in your only ear, mind you, so you'd been practically deaf for the better part of a week or two; shipments were coming in late; and the nightmares about the Second Wizarding War were returning tenfold.

It was a wonder that you could even wake up on time in the mornings to rinse and repeat.

You go out into Diagon Alley but all the shop's are closed (except for yours). Hogsmeade and the safer parts of muggle London are also boarded up. You Apparate back to Diagon Alley empty-handed. Sighing dejectedly, you kick at the snow drifts for a bit, marring their pristine fluffiness and leaving your mark in the shape of muddy footprints.

Fred would've known what to do. Fred loved winter; he always counted down to the holidays and was constantly trying to decorate the Burrow for Christmas in the middle of July. He gave the best gifts, had them planned out months in advance, and was on your case about not forgetting to shop for gifts. And you, well, it looks like nineteen years of hearing your twin's nagging went in through one ear and out the hole in the other.

Not for the first time, you have the thought that you're useless without your twin.

But Fred wouldn't want you to think like that. Negativity was his enemy during the yuletide season. He'd be playing pranks on you to get you out of your sour mood - a tug of your scarf here, a slip of your hat over your eyes there, a whisper of "Look at the snow, Georgie", and you'd try to move your hat so you could see only to have a ball of snow thrown at your exposed face . . . .

You do as he says, though: you look at the snow. And it's beautiful. It's falling down in soft, quiet layers like a powdered sugar dusting. You stick out your tongue and are momentarily startled by the iciness and not the sweetness that you expected. You follow up by spinning in circles until you fall down from dizziness; then, you continue your winter fun by making snow angels and conjuring a sled to slide around the snow-covered cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley.

(When you show up eight hours later at the Burrow, you come bearing glass jars with a different snowy scene inside each of them. They are charmed so that the snow continuously falls from the lid and disappears from the bottom.

"Look at the snow," you tell each recipient as you give them a home-made snow globe.)

[-]


	10. Sydney

**Author's Note:**

Battleship Challenge C6: "It's not my fault being the biggest and the strongest. I don't even exercise!" - Fezzik, The Princess Bride by William Goldman.

24 August 2014. Word Count: 520

**"Don't worry; I'll go easy on you."**

* * *

**Matchmaker  
**

[-]

It's her first match, and Cho is absolutely terrified.

She's been training non-stop for this first Quidditch game of the season against Hufflepuff, but she woke up this morning feeling entirely unprepared. She knows she is good - there's a reason why last year's older, bigger, and stronger Ravenclaw Seeker did not make the cut for this season - but she doesn't know if she is good enough to steal the Snitch away from the competition.

During the pre-match pep talk, the Ravenclaw captain assures her that she'll do fine out on the pitch if she gives it her all just like she does during practice. He has gone over the team's strategies and tactics so many times that a Hufflepuff can't so much as sneeze during the game without the Ravenclaws having a counterattack ready to put in place.

Suddenly, Lee Jordan is announcing the Ravenclaws, and they fly out in a carefully planned synchronised pattern from their holding box. The crowd is buzzing with excitement. Cho feeds off their contagious energy and feels the adrenaline tingling within her veins. After the requisite cheers and boos from the audience, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs get into starting formation on opposite sides of the half-line on the pitch.

Cedric Diggory, the Sixth Year Hufflepuff Seeker who is rather legendary at Hogwarts, smiles encouragingly at her from his side. Cho narrows her eyes as she recalls his words at dinner the evening before:

"Don't worry; I'll go easy on you."

She'd said thank you, of course, but his patronising tone had ruffled her metaphorical feathers. Sure, he had meant to be nice - even chivalrous, perhaps - but it had come off more chauvinistic than gentlemanly. Cho might've been nervous about the upcoming match but she wanted to prove her talent and ambition in a fair match; not one where her opponent was going to willingly put himself at a disadvantage just because she was female or new to the game. Obviously, she had made no returning promise about going "easy" on him.

Remembering Cedric's words helps to burn away the last of her nerves. She holds on to her silent vow to best Cedric during the match today - and every match in the future.

There is a split-second of silence from when Madam Hooch raises her whistle to her lips to when the silver device lets out an echoing shriek. The game is on. Cedric zigzags away in hot pursuit of the Snitch, all the while looking like lightning personified. Cho notices wryly that he is going in the wrong direction.

In the end, he had never really stood a chance. The Snitch is caught two minutes into the game in Ravenclaw's favour.

Cho is elevated into the stratosphere as her team lifts her up onto their shoulders. From up here, she can see his look of utter disbelief that she had beat him. His jaw is dropped open and there is embarrassment mixed with admiration swirling in his eyes.

She catches Cedric's eye and smiles even wider. "Don't worry!" she yells while laughing. "I'll never go easy on you!"

[-]


	11. Port Moresby

**Author's Note:**

Okay, so maybe this would make more sense as a one-shot because I had to re-edit a lot to condense it to fit the 500 word count limit.

I would like to point out that the all-dialogue style is done for a reason (perhaps you can guess whose pov this is in?) and that while this may seem like it's all in the same day, there are actually huge time gaps in between each section.

24 August 2014. Word Count: 586

**Just listen to me and you'll understand about autism in no time.**

* * *

**Just Listen  
**

[-]

"Harry...he still isn't talking."

"Give him time, Ginny. He's a little shy."

"A little? It's been three years. James has yet to make a noise; doesn't that strike you as the least bit odd? Teddy began speech at two. I just don't get why-"

"James isn't Teddy. Ginny, stop. Please. I don't want to talk about this in front of him."

"It's not like he understands-"

"Perhaps not the words, but look, your tone is making him upset. Please, Ginny. We'll talk about it later, all right?"

"...all right."

x

"Dr. Vander, please tell me you know what is wrong with my child. He won't talk or communicate, smile, respond to his name, or play with his siblings. I know James isn't normal, but there has to be others in the world like him, right? He's not the only one afflicted with whatever this is?"

"Ms. Potter, I would like for you to relax. Yes, just like that. All right, good. Now, I would like to clarify something: there is nothing 'wrong' with James."

"But-"

"Hear me out, ma'am. His symptoms from the examination reveal that he is autistic. All of his behaviours are exactly how an autistic person would react in the given situations."

"I don't - I'm not sure I follow. Teddy, don't you dare put that in James's mouth."

"Don't worry, Ms. Potter. Just listen to me and you'll understand about autism in no time."

x

"Mummy says you have autism. It's an awfully big word for a little thing like you. I'm Teddy. I'm your big brother. I wish you would talk back but all you do is stare at me and drool. You're boring, but that's okay. I can wait until you're big like me and can climb trees and stuff. We're going to have so much fun, James, just you wait and see."

x

"Mummy, why doesn't James talk to me? Does he not like me?"

"No, baby, of course James likes you. You're his big brother."

"But he _never_ talks. I thought he would've by now."

"I know, Teddy. I know. Daddy and I are going to get him special help soon."

x

"Teddy, Mummy and I have some important news for you. James isn't going to be living with us anymore."

"Why not?"

"Well, he's special, and someone so special needs extra love and extra special help."

"Is this because he doesn't speak even though he's five?"

"Not exactly, but yes, that's one reason-"

"But he's learning! He's so smart; can't you see that, Mummy? I can make James talk. I can! Please, Mummy, _please_ don't take him away. Please don't. You can't do this! Just listen to him!"

James has curled in on himself and has his hands clapped over his ears. He's rocking back and forth and babbling nonsensical words. The tense atmosphere is obviously affecting him negatively but Teddy is too worked up to soothe his brother. If the Potters don't get both boys under control soon, James'll be throwing a temper tantrum.

"I'm sorry," Ginny says, unable to meet either of her sons' eyes. Her heart is breaking but this is the only option. She knows she and Harry can't be the parents they need to be in order to properly raise James. She has to do this. She has to send James away to St. Mungo's. It's for the best. For everyone. (Or at least, that's what she is trying to convince herself.) "I'm sorry."

(But 'sorry' isn't enough to let James stay.)

[-]


	12. Inverness

**Author's Note: **

This is 100 words over the maximum. Again, I am really sorry for being so verbose, but I hope my judges count this fic anyway. Warnings for mentions of the Holocaust.

7 September 2014. Word Count: 650

**"Make a wish, Hannah."**

* * *

**Counting Stars  
**

[-]

It's 1933.

January is cold but not cold enough to deter two six-year-old German girls from climbing the roof of their flat and making an impenetrable fort of sleeping sacks. The girls sip thermoses of hot cocoa, listen to their radio, and try to catch shooting stars with their bare hands.

"Make a wish, Hannah," the blonde girl murmurs to her best friend.

Hannah does so but her eyes are open the whole time ("Hannah, you're supposed to close your eyes or else your wish won't come true!") so she can track the movement of her star until it burns up and disappears from sight.

"How many stars do you think are up there tonight?" Hannah asks.

Luna tilts her head upwards. "Five hundred and sixty-six thousand."

The world is silent around them as the girls watch the stars dance across the sky. The quiet is broken by the crackling sound of their radio broadcasting Adolf Hitler's appointment as Chancellor of Germany.

x

Berlin is crumbling around Hannah's very own eyes. Nowhere is safe anymore. With Hitler's rise to power came a reign of terror. Everyone is at war: family against friend, German against Jew, Hitler against the world. It's illegal for Hannah to be on her roof but she still comes up here to escape.

She's eleven now and apparently eleven means that she is old enough to know too much. After dinner, Hannah had overheard Mutti tell Papa they had to leave _now_ before they get carted off to one of those concentration camps. Papa countered that fleeing was a cowardly thing to do, and besides, where would they go? No country was accepting Jews.

Hannah doesn't know what to think. She just knows that Berlin didn't used to be so terrible, and that being Jewish wasn't illegal or something to be ashamed of before now.

She wishes she could talk to Luna. But Luna is German and the Nazis have made it quite clear what happens to Germans who interact with the Jewish. Still, Hannah searches the night sky for a star to wish upon.

x

On September 1, 1941, Hannah no longer has to look to the sky to find a yellow star to wish on - it's stitched right there on her clothes, right above her heart. Berlin looks as if five hundred and sixty-six thousand stars have fallen from the sky and landed bedraggled and lost in the city. Hannah wants to make wishes on behalf of them all but she has the feeling that nothing short of a miracle can save everyone.

Two weeks later, Hannah's rabbi summons his congregation to the synagogue but there are uniformed soldiers waiting there with swastikas on their cruel arms.

There is a mass panic and somehow Hannah went from standing with her family in the synagogue to being dragged onto a train platform. The Gestapo shoves as many Jews as they can onto the cattle cars. She finds herself crammed near the door, and somebody actually falls out and onto the train tracks below. The train wheels start moving and oh no, she can't look down there at the tracks, she can't move her hands to cover her ears and muffle that awful scream and the crunch of bones...

Hannah tries to distract herself and sees a flash of blonde in the crowd gathered on the platform. She doesn't dare let herself hope but then:

"Hannah!" the blonde girl screams desperately and tries to run toward the moving train but there are too many people and no one can save Hannah now. She grabs the spot on her blouse over her heart and gestures wildly for Hannah to do the same. "HANNAH! Make a wish!"

Hannah holds onto her Star of David and closes her eyes to make a wish. When she opens her eyes, the train has sped out of the station, and Luna's gone.

[-]


	13. Mexico City

**Author's Note: **

25 August 2014. Word Count: 552

**"I _think_ these are tomatillos."**

* * *

**Tomatillos**

[-]

When María asked you to cover her eight AM shift at the farmer's market, you thought it would only be a one-time favour. But your Hogwarts roommate was never known for being punctual, and sooner rather than later, the booth she worked for had asked if you would mind permanently taking over her shift every Saturday morning. Surprisingly, you had enjoyed the hustle and bustle of early morning Mexico City, so you agreed. The crowded vending stalls allowed you to people-watch and fully immerse yourself into the Hispanic culture. You became a great bargainer, and learnt a lot about yourself and how to adapt to the environment around you. But best of all, here no one knew who you were or your magical heritage or that far away in the British Isles, you were something short of a celebrity.

That is, you knew no one from the past and no one from the past knew you here until this Saturday morning when you think you spy a conspicuous flash of ginger hair in a hue that is much too similar to your own.

The girl notices you the at the same time you notice her. She smiles brightly and rushes towards you. "Roxanne!" she yells out, and oh my, it really is Lily Luna Potter. You blink twice in astonishment.

"Lily? What are you doing here?"

"Oh my Godric," she lets out in a single breath. "I know, right? Lily Luna awake before the ass crack of dawn? So unheard of. But José wanted tomatillos - yeah, I know, I didn't say that wrong. He specifically asked for tomatillos as if I'm supposed to know what the hell _those_ are - and Callie insisted that this farmer's market was the absolute best in the city, so here I am."

"Here you are," you echo. Your cousin has effectively evaded the original question you'd asked. "In Mexico City. Far away from home."

"Oh!" she laughs. "Didn't you hear? I'm spending my summer holiday in a study abroad programme founded by my arts prof at Uni."

The crowd swells and impatiently pushes Lily a bit as they pass her; she's the only stationary one in the tiny aisle, and it's disrupting the flow of pedestrian traffic, much to the shoppers' annoyance. Lily frowns back at them and then directs her attention to the vegetables at your stall. She selects a few round green vegetables that look like a tomato-squash hybrid.

As she holds them up by their husk and inspects them, Lily says, "I _think_ these are tomatillos. Oh well, José probably won't even notice if they aren't. Right, Roxie?"

Your reply is drowned out by the cacophony of bargaining and Spanish voices in the market.

"What was that?" Lily asks and cups a hand around her ear. "Wait, never mind. Why don't we meet up for happy hour at the local cantina tonight? Hey, there's José." Lily stands on her tiptoes and starts waving obnoxiously. Her hands are perilously close to knocking all of the tomatillos out of her basket and hitting unsuspecting passer-bys in the face.

"José!" she yells. "Look at what I found!"

Then Lily is gone, green tomatillos and all. You're left standing dumbstruck at your booth, wondering how the hell your past managed to find you, in the end.

[-]


	14. Osaka City

**Author's Note:**

18 October 2014. Word Count: 550**  
**

**She wishes she could get a peek into his mind to understand his thought process.**

* * *

**Food for Thought**

[-]

Maybe this is better.

He'd suggested that they meet at the campus bakery, the one with the lakeside view. Originally, she had proposed to meet at the library - she _always_ worked on her class assignments in the library - but he wanted to be at the bakery. We need an atmosphere similar to the one we will be presenting in, he had said. Hermione had countered then they should be working in the lecture auditorium. I already checked and it's booked for the entire week, he told her. She didn't have a response ready since it never occurred to her he would have already checked the auditorium's schedule.

She takes a bite of her pastry - he had recommended the cinnamon roll, and oh my, it's the best advice she has ever received - and enjoys the sweet icing melting on her tongue. Usually she doesn't come to this part of campus or anywhere that's not the library. It's nice here. She might have to stop by again to snag some cinnamon rolls for her next all-nighter.

The only problem with the bakery is that Hermione isn't very productive here. It could be the cinnamon rolls. Or maybe the lovely view of the lake. Or maybe Organic Chemistry really isn't her thing, no matter how many times she deludes herself into believing that she can conquer any and every subject. Really, though, she's betting her lack of focus is his entire fault.

She glances back at her Organic Chemistry notes but her mind is so distracted. Instead of focusing on hydrocarbon compounds and their bonding patterns, Hermione's thoughts revolve around the twenty different reddish hues in his hair when the sun hits it just like so.

"What?" he laughs. "Do I have a spot of flour in my hair?"

Hermione startles, belatedly realising that she's been staring at him for quite some time now. "Oh, er, no, you're fine," she stammers out.

He smirks but doesn't comment and goes back to reviewing their term paper. Hermione forces herself not to get lost in the constellations of freckles on his cheeks and stares at her notes again. It's quiet in the bakery except for the occasional rustle of pages turning and coffee percolating.

"White chocolate and peppermint crumbles," he proclaims randomly.

"Pardon?"

Fred's a gastronomy major. Hermione has heard from mutual friends that Fred blurts out random ingredients sometimes but she's never actually heard him do it in person until now. She wishes she could get a peek into his mind to understand his thought process.

"A Christmas dessert recipe I'm working on," he explains as he continues to mark revisions in their rough draft.

"Oh," Hermione says. "Right. Of course." She wonders if she'll be at the Burrow this Christmas and will be able to taste this new dessert. She would go visit the Weasley's as a family friend, undoubtedly, but a part of her hopes to go as Fred's girlfriend. He's so oblivious, though, that Hermione doubts her daydreams will ever become a reality.

Fred pauses from revising and studies her. "You all right?"

Hermione smiles. "Never better," she says as she pushes her romantic feelings out of her heart. Currently, Fred seems to want to be 'just friends' and Hermione is all right with that.

(For now.)

[-]


	15. Auckland

**Author's Note:**

_A Christmas Story_ is one of the best winter holiday films.

14 December 2014. Word Count: 585

**"May I take your coat?"**

* * *

**This Old House**

[-]

"Hi. I, er, saw the sign for an estate clearance." The sandy-haired man gestured vaguely in the direction of the street behind him where he saw the aforementioned sign. "Have I come to the right place?"

Mundungus Fletcher eyed the newcomer with interest. He smelled an easy – and quite profitable – business swindle in the very near future. The blond man seemed quite naive and trusting. Not to mention extremely wealthy; this was exactly what Mundungus was interested in.

"Why yes," Mundungus smiled smarmily. "Right this way, sir." He led him into the dark, hallowed halls of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Lupin," the other interjected. "Call me Remus Lupin."

"Of course, Mr Lupin, sir," Mundungus repeated and gestured towards Lupin's suit jacket. "May I take your coat?"

"Yes, thank you," Lupin said, oblivious to the double connotation, and handed it over.

Mundungus collected it eagerly and stashed the coat in a cupboard when Lupin wasn't looking. By the time his newest victim left the house with arms laden of Black treasure, Lupin wouldn't even realise he was missing his very expensive Armani coat. And if he did – here, Mundungus dug around in the coat pockets and swiped Lupin's very nice-looking pocket watch – well, at least Mundungus would have gained something if he in fact lost possession of Lupin's coat.

The open house was very busy. The death of Britain's infamous criminal, the notorious Sirius Black and last of his bloodline, had wealthy patrons from all over Europe clamouring to get a piece of the now very available and accessible Black family fortune.

"Anything you interested in particular, sir?"

Lupin shrugged indecisively. "I was thinking of something for my girlfriend..."

_Even better_, Mundungus thought. The poor bloke was probably so love-smitten with his lady friend that he would be willing to pay an arm and a leg just to get her something that he believed would make her happy. And lucky for Lupin – or perhaps _un_lucky for Lupin, Mundungus chuckled to himself – a ridiculously substantial amount of money was exactly what Mundungus would be charging.

"Jewels, perhaps?" Mundungus offered. He picked up necklaces from a nearby showcase and let ribbons of sparkling gems drip through his fingers. "Your lady would look exquisite dressed in these decadent beauties."

Lupin frowned. "Jewellery really isn't Tonks' thing."

"Hmmph," Mundungus scowled. This Tonks must be quite the oddball to be rejecting gemstones that would rival the Crown jewels themselves.

"This!" his client exclaimed rather suddenly. He picked up the ugly mountain troll umbrella stand at the bottom of the stairway. It was a leg covered in a single fishnet stocking and capped off with a high heel. "Tonks would adore this as a lamp stand. How much for it?"

"That's not for sale," Mundungus quickly said.

"Not for sale!" Lupin repeated in aghast. "Surely not. Name a price."

"Sir, I said it's not for sale. That was Sirius' favourite possession and I could not bear to dishonour his memory by selling it." The lie rolled easily off his tongue and ensnared his victim the way Mundungus had planned.

"Five hundred," Lupin countered.

"Two thousand."

"Seven-fifty."

"One thousand five hundred."

"One thousand."

"One thousand two-fifty and that's my final offer."

"Done."

Mundungus smirked as Lupin left the estate with that ghastly mountain leg stand and a few bank notes lighter. He, on the other hand, had Lupin's overcoat and pocket watch.

As usual, Mundungus Fletcher had managed to get the better end of the deal without his customer suspecting a single thing.

[-]


	16. Vilnius

**Author's Note:**

14 December 2014. Word Count: 546

**"How easy it is to fool Dumbledore's Army."**

* * *

**Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy**

[-]

In retrospect, Harry knew he shouldn't have trusted her.

MI6 had transferred MI5 spy "Agent Raven" into his section a week ago. Harry didn't really know why a domestic British security service agent was needed in the foreign intelligence sector for this mission in Budapest, but he'd learnt the hard way a long time ago that it was best not to question his superiors. At least, not to their faces.

The mission's goal was simple: gather information about the global terrorists who called themselves "Death Eaters". Lately, they'd been targeting Eastern Europe and exploiting oriental black markets. There had been raids on civilian villages and numerous bombings. Rumour had it the Death Eaters were searching for the Resurrection Stone, a legendary gem that would bring back the dead. They were trying to revive their leader, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

L, head of MI6 and Harry's superior, stressed this secret mission was to be non-combative. "Phoenix" was specifically to only find out intelligence. Harry shot back that L should have commissioned the Inquisition Squad if obtaining information was L's sole objective.

Of course, L ignored Harry. L was overly cautious about trusting any of his spies; there was a double-agent amongst them who was feeding inside knowledge to the Death Eaters.

"Phoenix" had commenced without any difficulty which made Harry's scar tingle with foreboding. Never before had Harry been on a mission that hadn't been met with gunfire within the first ten minutes of him stepping on foreign soil. Then again, he'd never been on a mission designed just for intelligence-gathering. He was a spy suited for combative field work, not schmoozing with the enemy.

Raven was assigned his co-leader. The dark-haired female agent had no idea about MI6 procedures and was more hindrance than help. Eventually, an exasperated Harry had sent her into the Hungarian Parliament Building in a provocative dress and red lipstick to serve as a distraction for the Death Eaters while he and the rest of the team wove their web.

Two hours later, and Raven had yet to show at the rendezvous point. Operation "Phoenix" was inside parliament as well and was mingling with the other ministry officials who were here to celebrate the annunciation of the next prime minister. "Phoenix" had gathered all the intelligence they needed to map out the Death Eaters' pattern used to plan their attacks. Now, all they needed was Raven before they could return back to home base.

Suddenly, an explosion shook the building. Green smoke and the Dark Mark – both Death Eater signatures – clouded Harry's sight. He went into combat mode, withdrew his gun, and searched for his team. With a sinking heart, he realised they were all held captive by men hooded in black with skull masks.

"Lay down your weapon," a voice commanded him. "Resistance is futile."

Harry frowned. He knew that voice.

"Marietta," one of the Death Eaters snarled impatiently. "Get on with it. Bellatrix is waiting."

"How easy it is to fool Dumbledore's Army," Raven - no, _Marietta_ \- sneered at Harry. She was dressed in the black robes of a Death Eater, but instead of a mask she had SNEAK tattooed in blood-red across her face.

That was the last thing Harry remembered before something hit him in the head and his vision went black.

[-]


	17. Stavenger

**Author's Note:**

18 December 2014. Word Count: 583

**Even the best fall down sometimes.**

* * *

**Grave**

[-]

They're paired together for the graveyard shift.

(Except, when you're in the middle of a war, a graveyard shift is meant literally. It's that spot of time between midnight and dawn which you spend walking through empty cemeteries, keeping guard over the graves of friends so your enemies cannot raise an Inferi army of the dead.)

Lily doesn't know much about her patrol partner the Order of the Phoenix assigned her for tonight. Marlene McKinnon. Her partner's name is sticky sweet and reminds Lily of bubblegum pink. The sharp consonants smack against Lily's lips.

Marlene was a Gryffindor in Lily's year who hung out with Dorcas Meadowes and Emmeline Vance, the popular girls. They had been the best at everything – flawless hair, perfect marks, and had their whole lives mapped out. In contrast, Lily had instead spent her awkward teenage years in Sev's company while she floated around aimlessly.

Lily is a Gryffindor through and through and would not hesitate to sacrifice her life to save Marlene, but Lily wishes to know more about this stranger she would be hypothetically saving. To break the silence, she asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Were you and Black a thing?"

Marlene startled at Lily's random question. "Um." She blinked and continued walking through the labyrinth of graves of fallen Order members.

"I thought so," Lily nodded to herself as if Marlene's non-response explained everything. "I wasn't sure but – "

"Never officially," Marlene interrupted. The thing she hated worse than rumours was rumours that had been twisted so far from the truth that they were hardly recognisable anymore. "And you? With James?"

It took Lily a moment to realise that the 'James' Marlene referred to was Potter. "Oh, no!" she denied immediately as soon as her mind made the connection. "Merlin, no."

"Hmm," Marlene hummed. "I had hoped..."

Lily doesn't know how to respond to that. The two girls continue to walk through the cemetery with the light of the moon to show them their way.

"Friend of yours?" Lily asked quietly when Marlene stopped in front of a gravestone marker. The dirt looked as if it had been recently dug up and turned over.

The other girl let out a breath. Navy blue eyes flicked up to meet Lily's green gaze. "Family," she corrected. "My uncle." Marlene gazed around at the graveyard and laughed bitterly. "He never wanted this. War. All this rubbish about blood purity – he swore it would ruin us in the end. And look at what happened to him. Self-fulfilling prophecy, hmm?"

Lily placed a gentle hand on Marlene's shoulder. "We're still here. We can finish this fight. Don't give up, Marlene, or else the Dark Lord _will_ have won."

Marlene nodded and placed her hand over Lily's. She drew strength from Lily's act of friendship and kindness. "Uncle Harold was the whole reasons why I joined the war, you know? I believed in what he was fighting for. Still do. He was the best wand fighter and smooth talker I had ever met. He could even persuade a mountain to move. But I guess even the best fall down sometimes."

"That's when you pick yourself up and continue to soldier on. You believe in faith and hope that things will change and that all of this will not be for naught," Lily said. "Come on. Dawn is almost near and with it will come a new day. Something tells me that it is going to be a beautiful sunrise."

[-]


	18. Riga

**Author's Note:**

I do realise Monet's _Water Lilies_ were after Degas' _Dance Class_.

23 December 2014. Word Count: 407

**Monsieur says a painter is coming to the studio tomorrow. Monsieur Degas.**

* * *

**The Dance Class**

[-]

The year is 1874.

Monsieur Jules Perrot lines you up in a straight line, his little toy soldiers, except you're one of the snowflake dancers and Padma is a sugar plum fairy.

That was last winter's production, though. Your hopes of fluttering about in a lead role are hung up in the back closet along with your snowflake costume which is nestled right behind Padma's fairy outfit. Because you're second best – you've _always _been second best ever since you left the womb two minutes after her – and you're tired of fighting to get out of Padma's shadow.

(Shoulder to shoulder, side by side, there's no way her shadow can cover your face now.)

Monsieur says a painter is coming to the studio tomorrow. Monsieur Degas. He wants to paint the dance class practising – no poses, all candid.

Your expression doesn't change but this is it. This is your chance to step into the spotlight.

Padma's at home this week with an injury from the recital last weekend. A bruised ankle. Nothing that would terribly hinder her dancing except she hates the way the splotch blossoms on her foot with a striking likeness to Monet's water lilies. Padma wouldn't have missed class if she knew a painter was going to be here.

Monsieur introduces Monsieur Degas. He's polite. Minimalistic.

« Bonjour » he says.

Twenty-four girls dressed in white tulle with pink satin on their feet curtsy in response.

But you, you're the only one wearing a crown of flowers in your hair. Padma's sugar plum fairy wand is clutched tightly in your hand, and glitter sprinkles and sparkles all over you in a visual representation of magic. Monsieur Degas sees this. He smiles.

« Et qui êtes-vous ? » Monsieur Degas asks.

« Patil » you respond. Then, you clarify just in case he's not sure which twin you are. « _Parvati_ Patil. »

« Enchanté, mademoiselle. »

He nods and picks up his paintbrush. Monsieur Degas works quietly in the back of the room. You would forget his presence except every time you complete a revolution in your fouette, you can see him for a split-second in the mirror's reflection.

And it occurs to you, when you see his final masterpiece, that he only saw split-second glimpses of you, too.

(There you are wand in hand with the illusion of magic shadowing your face. You're in the background, of course, because where else would you be?)

[-]


	19. Saint Petersburg

**Author's Note:**

22 December 2014. Word Count: 181.

**It was a game they always played.**

* * *

**Cat and Mouse**

[-]

Fleur and Bill.

One always one step ahead of the other. Flying in circles – broomsticks, airplanes, Floo powder – it doesn't matter their method of travel as long as they stayed within the Earth's orbit. The world was their playground and the only rule was that there were no rules.

Cat and mouse.

It was a game they always played.

He pretends it's completely impossible to get ready, on a moment's notice, to fly off for an unscheduled archaeological excavation that his superior just-so-happened to forget to mention. She pretends to agree.

She gets off the plane to meet up with him in a brand new sparkling city that somehow looks oh-so-similar to the one she just left. She's pretending she doesn't look beautiful.

He pretends to be surprised that she is.

She pretends to be surprised that he is surprised.

Three times's the charm, after all.

He flies off to save the day. She cheers him from the sidelines. The game ends.

And when they're jetting off together to another new city to rinse and repeat, a new game begins again.

[-]


	20. Alert

**Author's Note:**

24 December 2014. Word Count: 238.

**"You seem a little distant today."**

* * *

**Summertime Sadness**

[-]

"Your radishes are doing nicely," Daddy says when he picks you up from King's Cross Station the summer after your Fourth Year. "Must be the acidic soil I transplanted them into."

"Must be," Luna hums.

"And the Blibbering Humdingers are growing so fast that they're almost out of control! Just last week I found one the size of a pregnant Thestral!"

"That's nice."

Daddy stops abruptly outside of the train station. He stares at Luna, a peculiar expression on his face. Eventually he asks: "What's the matter, Puffernutter? You seem a little distant today. Usually you're a chattering, dancing sunbeam of energy."

Luna shrugs. "I'm just really sad to be leaving Hogwarts. I had a fun time this year."

Daddy nods. "Oh, yes, I saw the _Daily Prophet_. What were you thinking, Luna? Entering the Ministry of Magic without proper gear to ward of the Nargles?"

"They weren't bothering me, Daddy," Luna says. She gently led her father over to the Apparation checkpoint so they could head home for the summer. "And I had friends to help me out."

"Friends?"

Luna smiles widely. "Yes, Daddy, and the best part is that they are real!" Her smile fades, though, once she thinks about how lonely she'll be this summer without them.

"Don't worry, Lulu," Daddy consoles her, reading her mind as usual in order to say the right thing to cheer up his sunbeam. "You'll see your friends again."

[-]


	21. Lisbon

**Author's Note:**

24 December 2014. Word Count: 316

**"Darling, do you know who I am?"**

* * *

**Déjà vu**

[-]

Australia is nice. The sun is pleasantly warm and the salty ocean breeze is refreshing. You can't imagine living anywhere else in the world and being as content as you are here in Sydney.

But sometimes, in that moment between consciousness and sleep, you see these scenes that are so vivid and real that you think they could be memories. And just for a single instant, you fancy yourself living in cold, wet, and rainy England. Your dreams are filled with teeth and the London Underground. You have a daughter, Hermione Jean, and she is an absolute angel who means the world to you. And this life you live in your dreams is so familiar that you have this inexplicable feeling that your London dreams are reality while your Australia life is the fictional dream.

When you wake, you believe yourself to be a Dr Thomas Granger. But then you see your sweet wife Monica Wilkins lying in bed beside you with a heartbroken expression on her face.

"Darling, do you know who I am?" she asks. There are unshed tears in her brown eyes.

You feel wretched for the pain you have caused your innocent wife. Usually, after your disorienting dreams, you tell her about Dr Thomas Granger and try to convince her that is your real identity.

But you're tired of making her believe the impossible. So, tonight you plaster a smile worthy of being on a dental advert on your face and tell Monica the words she wants to hear.

"You're Monica, my wife," you say. You're so utterly devoted to her and want to erase the hurt you've caused her these past few months with your talk of Dr Granger and England. You wrap her in your arms and kiss the top of her head. "And I'm Wendell Wilkins, the man who will always love you in every life we share together."

[-]


	22. Banff

**Author's Note:**

25 December 2014. Word Count: 190

**"It's even better."**

* * *

**Summit**

[-]

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah," Teddy agrees.

He shades his eyes and surveys the scenery. His breath comes in short pants despite his conscious effort to slow his breathing so he doesn't pass out. Coupled with asthma and exhaustion, well, he's just about ready to collapse from fatigue. However, fainting at the summit of Mount Everest isn't exactly part of the dream Lily Luna had painted for the two of them, and so he climbs on.

Lily nods excitedly. The lack of oxygen hasn't hindered her so far – in fact, the thin air invigorates her spirit. Her eyes are bright and sparkling. The sharp air nips at her face as she stands on top of the world. This is the most alive she has ever felt.

"Is this like what you'd imagined?" he asks.

"It's even better," Lily responds.

She loops her arm though her best friend's and together they stare contently at the swirling mass of land and clouds in front of them. It's been their dream to climb to the top of Mount Everest, and nineteen years later they have finally accomplished what their younger selves could only daydream about.

[-]


	23. Paris

**Author's Note:**

25 December 2014. Word Count: 609

**Scorpius has the distinct feeling that she is avoiding him.**

* * *

**Rinse and Repeat**

[-]

She enters the washroom at four every Monday afternoon. Two loads: dark and light. She waits while her clothes spin. Sometimes her eyes are trained on the hypnotic swirl of linen and cotton; other times she immerses herself in a fictional world of wherever her book du jour takes her.

She's only talked to him once. "Do you have any spare quarters? I need two, please."

He passes four over, of course. Two extra, just in case.

Perhaps he shouldn't have given her two extra quarters, though. It would have given her another chance to talk to him. And, he kind of needed those two for his own load of laundry.

She leaves one hour and fifty-five minutes after she enters the college dorm's laundry room. She smiles at him politely as she brushes past him when she leaves.

x

It's November and Scorpius still doesn't know her name.

He knows she's a natural redhead, prefers jeans instead of dresses, does not seem to own a single pair of socks, moves her lips when she reads, and is always a few quarters short.

"Um, do you have a quarter?" she asks yet again. Her voice is quiet even though they are the only two people in the laundry room.

Scorpius fishes around in his pocket and then passes one over, just like he always does. "One load is fifty cents. Same as it's been since the beginning of term," he says helpfully.

She blushes. "Right," she mutters. "I knew that."

x

The next week she doesn't mooch a quarter off of him. And, he can't help but notice that when her laundry is done, she doesn't smile at him on her way out of the room. Then, the week after, she does not wash her clothes at their usual time.

Scorpius has the distinct feeling that she is avoiding him.

He wishes she wouldn't.

x

He's studying for a Calc midterm exam one evening in December. Five hours later and the numbers are starting to float off the page in front of his tired eyes. A quick glance at the clock shows that it's a little after two in the morning.

Scorpius stretches and decides to go down to the vending machines for a midnight snack. Upon hearing a washing machine in use from the laundry room, he abandons his search for a snack in favour of seeing who may be doing laundry so early in the morning.

"You!" he exclaims as he spies a familiar redhead.

She lets out a startled scream and drops her book. "Shit!"

"Oh, um, sorry," he says sheepishly and goes to help her collect her things.

"You can't just sneak up on people and yell at them randomly," she glares at him.

He smiles. "Why can't I?"

"You're impossible," she scoffs and directs her gaze away from him.

Scorpius isn't about to let her disappear out of his life again; not when he's finally found her again. "No, I'm Scorpius." He sticks his hand in front of her face so she can't do anything but focus back on him.

"Same thing," she says haughtily and ignores his hand.

"I, um, need some quarters for the vending machine," he lies just to keep her talking to him.

"Is that so?" Nonetheless, she hands him a roll of quarters from her purse. He catches a glimpse of the name on her student ID: Rose Weasley. "I kind of owe you."

"How about a date instead?"

"How about no?"

Scorpius takes the quarters, hands up in acquiescence, and grins as he leaves the washroom. Rose is all sorts of difficult but he thinks he's in love.

[-]


	24. Cape Town

**Author's Note:**

25 December 2014. Word Count: 174

**His movement is fluid and serpentine.**

* * *

**Nightmare**

[-]

Harry wakes in a cold sweat. For a minute, he can still feel the cool tile beneath his slithering belly. His sense of smell is infinitely sharper. His movement is fluid and serpentine.

_Not real_, he tells himself.

He runs his tongue over his teeth and sags in relief when his canines are not the fangs he had half-believed them to be. Harry wiggles his fingers and toes and pats the top of his head as he searches out for the qualities that make him human.

Ever since he had been one with Nagini in the Department of Mysteries, Harry had been dreaming more often than not that he was a snake, too.

Harry fights his nightmare, though, and creates a list of true facts that restore his humanity and calm his mind.

_My name is Harry Potter. My parents are James and Lily Potter. I am sixteen years old. I am a wizard. I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Magic is real. I am real. My dream is _not _real . . . ._

[-]


	25. Myrtle Beach

**Author's Note:**

25 December 2014. Word Count: 278

**"Mirror, mirror, on the wall."**

* * *

**The Looking Glass**

[-]

It all started with that fairytale "Snow White." After Daphne Greengrass saw the Disney film, she stood in front of her antique gold-plated heirloom mirror and spoke to it in the hopes that it would speak back.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" she would ask and sweep her mother's inky brocade over one shoulder as she clomped through the house in too-big high heels. If she were feeling particularly regal, she would slather on some of mother's ruby red lipstick, too.

At the age of four, she could care less if the mirror spoke back to her or not; she was much more occupied role-playing an Evil Queen with powers who could terrify her pesky little sister, Astoria.

When she was twelve and had her affections rejected by Draco Malfoy, Daphne found herself looking back into her mirror.

"Mirror, mirror," she recited but she already felt like a silly foolish little girl from having her daydreams ruined of handsome princes and white horses. Daphne succumbed herself to the tears and turned away from her reflection in disgust.

The summer before her Seventh Year was terrifying. Death Eaters came and went through her house with no respect to hers or her sister's privacy. After one particularly terrible incident, Daphne turned to her mirror once more.

She stared at the cold, impartial reflection of herself. She supposed she was the same girl who once believed in fairytales but she couldn't find a single trace of that girl in the reflection of the stranger in front of her.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," she began but couldn't remember how the rest of the phrase went.

[-]


	26. The Magna Carta

**Author's Note:**

25 December 2014. Word Count: 209

**"You can run but you can't hide!"**

* * *

**Fox Hunt**

[-]

Twigs crunch and branches slash across her face but Helena forces herself to forget about the pain. She has to keep running. Her mother has sent Britain's most capable hunter after her; it's only a matter of time before Helena is caught but she is determined to go down fighting.

She's led her hunter through the craggy peaks of the snow-covered Alps and the salty waters of the Dead Sea, yet nothing has deterred the Baron. If anything, he has gained ground on her.

Helena is running out of ideas (her lungs burn with fatigue) and she can feel the diadem's power weaken as she takes further away from her mother (her mind battles demons from back home).

"You can run but you can't hide!" yells the voice of the Baron. He must be using a Sonar Charm because Helena's protective enchantments would have alerted her by now if he had been within a five-kilometre radius of her.

Helena shakes her head so she can focus. She clutches the diadem tighter within her palm and surges past the border sign that announces that she is now entering Albania.

She is the fox and he is the hunter and they run blindly into the future instead of facing their past.

[-]


End file.
